


Tea Time

by Saringold



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, I never write about him but I love Ferdie a lot, Introspection, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29802597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saringold/pseuds/Saringold
Summary: Late one night, Ferdinand goes to make himself some tea. It doesn't turn out as well as he'd like.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Tea Time

Ferdinand von Aegir always made the effort to select the best tea leaves possible. If one were to ask him which ones were, in fact, the best, he had a wide variety of answers available, ranging from which most complimented the day’s weather or temperature, to which were the freshest, to which most elegantly paired with his partner’s clothing choice. If one were to ask his favorite, however, the answer would certainly be surprising given that of the three he’d list, only one would be considered “native” to Fódlan at all. Perhaps if he were engaging in a pleasant tea time with another, he would laugh it off and make a comment about how exotic and interesting his favorite teas were. After all, a noble such as himself should be versed in all matters pertaining to tea, including foreign blends and flavors! However, in the lonely, shadowed privacy of the late-night hour, he could fold up his noble bearing, draped ‘round him much like the starting curtain at a theater, obscuring the stage until it had been perfectly arranged according to the director’s will, and place it aside, allowing him to indulge in a favorite that before the war, he’d long been told wasn’t expensive or rare enough for him to enjoy regularly. 

Ah, the irony.

Ferdinand ran a gloved hand across the tea containers, searching. Fingertips traced handmade labels, freshly applied and free of dust. "Angelica, Mint, Ginger…" Even the words themselves seemed to bring forth flavor, and he savored each syllable as it rolled off his tongue. Truly, he would enjoy any of these, but tonight, he simply craved an old favorite, one that even if he was caught indulging in it here, the good people occupying the monastery now would never judge him for his choice. They had been through too much together to criticize him over tea, which had at one point been as central to his identity as his own last name.

Now, he could feel that his connection to both had… changed. Whether for better or worse, it was hard to say; perhaps it was enough just to acknowledge that it had. 

Ferdinand’s questing fingers finally found the container holding the Southern Fruit Blend, and he delicately plucked it from the shelf, opening the top. The aroma of dried fruit quickly met his nostrils, and he took a deep breath, savoring the scent. These leaves smelled fresh enough; now that the merchant caravans had begun winding their way back to the monastery, fresh new imports could be enjoyed and the noble was grateful for it. He had never known, never appreciated just how much of a luxury a good cup of tea was until he had found himself holding a mug of stale leaves floating in cold, leathery water and being told it was tea.

To its credit, it wasn’t the worst thing he’d put in his body in his lifetime.

He set some water to boil and carefully measured out the leaves, smiling at the familiar memories suddenly flooding in. This particular tea originated from the Rusalka territory, south of Aegir. The two houses had been frequent trading partners, and many a shipment of Southern Fruit Blend had traveled through Aegir and then distributed throughout the rest of the empire. Normally, the tea was even more fragrant than this, sporting strong, bright notes that delighted the palettes of the common people who could afford it. Now, Ferdinand supposed that given the circumstances, the fact that these leaves were even shadows of their former brilliance was enough to be thankful for. 

Once the water had finished warming, Ferdinand turned his focus away from the kettle to the many teacups in the cupboards. A thought brewing in the back of his brain bubbled forth about how they were all polished and pristine, ready for use, lined up rank-and-file and existing solely to please their users. Once, he would have taken notice of each one’s style, coloration, age, and general wear. Now, they all mostly looked the same to his eyes, and he simply selected one, checked to see that it wasn’t cracked, and poured in the water. He had come to learn that it really wasn’t best to have favorites.

Once the water had been poured, Ferdinand spooned in the leaves, letting them steep. Fly-like thoughts buzzed in his head, making him feel somewhat antsy; tea-making used to be so leisurely, and now it bugged him how long it took. His fingers wormed their way into his hair, and it was only when his mind registered that he was tugging too hard at the auburn locks and sent a warning wave of pain coursing through his scalp did he let go. How long had he been lost in his reverie? 

He looked over at his teacup and grimaced; he had most certainly oversteeped it, based on its sudden and striking resemblance to mud. Mud. Leaves grown near his home, on lands close to his. How were the tea farmers? Were they doing well? Did the war impact their lives as much as it was currently impacting Ferdinand’s own? Did it matter who ruled them so long as the victor could guarantee their livelihood? 

The unpleasant thought caused Ferdinand’s stomach to churn, and he lifted the teacup to his lips. Taking a sip, he immediately gave a grimace even as he made himself swallow. He took a second sip, and then a third, forcing himself to drink; he was no longer in the habit of wasting resources, and especially not tea, not this tea. Finishing the brew, he set the now-stained teacup aside, and cupped a hand into the nearby water barrel to scoop out a handful of water with which to wash out his mouth. 

Bitterness was all that remained.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My writing twitter is [here!](https://twitter.com/Saringold_)


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